Down In Chehalis
by platonicplatypus
Summary: "You were not mine to cleave to, as much as you wanted to be. Please forgive me." DISCLAIMER: I do not own Trigun, or any of Marcy Playground's content.
1. 1

**Sherry Fraser**

_He waits forever for his old lover.  
__And always wondering,  
__Will I see stars falling all around your head,  
__When you return? _

One could see a flickering light, if standing at the edge of town, squinting into the faded horizon. The fire continued on with a seething crackle, its flames hastily lapping at the surrounding air. A warm glow cast over two shaded frames, giving each an ethereal façade.

They lay on an open blanket, their exposed bodies laced together. A calming hush had decsended, passing between them a mutual understanding none but the two could comprehend. Sounds of a celebration from the neighboring town deluded through the breeze. They could've kept going, made it to the town just after nightfall, but no, here was as fine as any bed or cot.

The male of the duo let out a heavy sigh, still catching his breath, still trying to calm his racing heart. Brett lifted herself up off him, rumaging through her belongings for a cigarette. She brought the stick to her lips and, with a trembling hand, struck a match. Vash watched the ember ignite, then suffice to a dull glow, eyes trailing over her curves, surveying the contour of her person.

She didn't notice; short, ochre locks damp with sweat, her collarbone to the dip of her chest glistening in the fire's glow.

He watched the smoke curl, becoming wisped, beckoning fingers.

He wondered what thoughts plagued her, unwavering eyes boring into the flames. This hadn't been the first night they'd spent together, nor was it the first time they'd sat in silence. The past year had allowed him to accept the strange, emotional void that would consume her without warning. He supposed not many could tolerate her odd behavior, but alas, he could not bring himself to let her go. Admittedly, he loved her. And, admittedly, he hated what she'd become. He kept the latter to himself, however.

Pulling himself up and grabbing for his shirt, he placed the thin button-down over her shoulders. He knew she was just as conscience as he, if not more, about her own scars. He sighed. Well past a year and he still hadn't a clue how they'd come to be.

"Thank you," she mumbled, snuffing the cigarette into the sand.

He wanted to believe that she would become herself again. The old Brett, without any remorse or grief. The charismatic Brett that loved life, and that he'd loved. The Brett that Wolfwood had loved. But evenso, would their life return to normal? Would he see her as she was? Or would he still see this contusion?

Drawing near, he planted a light kiss atop her head, arms encircling her small frame. "You know I love you," he whispered, the warm breath tickling her ear.

She allowed her weary head to rest upon his collarbone. "Yeah," she breathed, "I know."

As soon as the words passed her lips, she knew it'd cut him. It was always her abrupt, unenthused comments that made her out to be a masochist. And she hated it. Why couldn't she cultivate the right words? Why had it become a chore to make another smile? The long deserted actions of her past seemed an implausible feat at this point.


	2. 2

**Gone Crazy**

_When there's no sun, and there's no moon,  
__And there's no stars, child,  
__Have you gone crazy?  
__Come back and be, come back for free.  
__Come back and stay, child,  
__Have you gone crazy? _

"Hey, cowboy, you lookin' for a good time?"

Brett had long since begun to ignore the women who would approach her company from time to time. And though when it occurred, the resilient pests continuously grading on her nerves, she wouldn't utter a word of disapproval. Honestly, she felt Vash should get to have some form of entertainment, some sort of interaction with others. She'd felt that their bond had been severed long ago, anyway, the wound never having healed. And she knew life among her was a bland existence. Anymore, at least.

"Oh, c'mon," they coaxed. "How 'bout tonight? Just for a drink?"

"Eh-heh, well," he stammered, glancing to Brett. It went unnoticed; she was already heading up the stairs to their room. "We'll see. I'll have to check my schedule...and see if I can pencil it in, and, uh...bye!"

* * *

They'd made it to Augustine by midday, filling up on a hearty meal and fresh water. The women had then come, obviously wanting to fill up on the Humanoid Typhoon. Though if they'd known his title, they may have been a bit more wary.

Brushing off the thought, Brett sat at the small, wooden table, legs crossed. Her attention was drawn to no place in particular, vacantly staring out the window, puffing on her third cigarette.

"How about we go out tonight?" Vash's sudden inquiry caused her to send a quizzical glance his way. She briefly gave him a once-over, noting his damp locks and the towel across his shoulders, before turning back to the window. The lack of a response nearly shot him down, but he refused to give up that easily. A thought then darted across his mind, an impish grin coming to his lips. "What if I...do this?" She looked to him once again, expression nonchalant. He'd begun to unbutton his collared shirt, brow quirked. He was bound and determined to get a rise out of her.

She shook her head, giving a faint chuckle. "You're relentless."

He was taken aback momentarily, proud of himself; she hadn't smiled in days, let alone laughed.

"Aw, come on," he pleaded, hopeful. "Please?"

"What about your girls? The one's at the bar?"

"They'll be fine," he waved off the subject. "Besides, I want to be with you."

This, she couldn't believe.

"You travel with me everyday, you eat and sleep with me everyday, you might as well be conjoined to my hip. Now, I highly doubt you actually mean that."

He heaved a sigh, slumping forward in his chair. She was a tough shell to break, she always had been, even back then. He smiled, reminiscing about the time Brett, Wolfwood, and himself had spent together.

* * *

_"It'd sure be nice to find a girl like that." _

_"She's not taken, if that's what you're thinking." _

_"Oh, I thought you and her were, well..." _

_"Ha, oh no," Wolfwood laughed. "Don't get me wrong, I've thought about it. But it would only complicate things. We've got it made here, in our little paradise." _

* * *

Our little paradise... Wherever they were now, they were far from any paradise. Perhaps if things had played out differently, if Wolfwood was still there, then maybe she wouldn't have taken everything so badly. Vash knew it hadn't been just the loss of the orphanage, or the children, that led to her current state, he wasn't that oblivious. It'd been the moment she'd found Wolfwood, laying in a pool of his own blood, that she'd lost herself.

Now, he couldn't care less if he got the girl in the end. Sure, he loved her, but he just wanted his dear friend back.


	3. 3

**Opium**

_Blue like water, blue like Heaven is all of the time.  
__I'm all right, I'm just gagging on all the all right.  
__I'm so happy, so happy.  
__I'm in Heaven, yeah, Heaven. _

It was well into the evening by the time Brett laid down to sleep. Vash had insisted that he stay in for the night, as she wasn't planning on leaving the room's confines. He'd ventured out, only for a short while, to buy a small meal and a bottle of the best whiskey he could afford.

_"Get me a pack of cigarettes, if you will,"_ he'd heard her call just as the door clicked shut behind him.

She sighed, pulling the sheet tight. The scent of alcohol was on her, just as it'd been on Vash's breath the moment she'd kissed him. Years ago, she'd learned that whiskey was a force to be reckoned with, but that hadn't been the case tonight. He'd stopped her before she let herself go too far. And not that she regretted the intimacy they shared, but even she knew their desires differed greatly.

Could she love him? Even a little?

The question surprised her; she didn't have an answer for that.

Turning further into the sheets, she buried her face in the pillow, inhaling stagnant tobacco. Despite the offensive aroma, it reminded her of times when she was happy, when everything was perfect. Sighing once more, she felt herself begin to penetrate the surface of a deep, calming sleep.

* * *

_There were trees. Not like what she'd seen in books, they were much more riveting, the vibrant green contrasting against the bluest of skies. The sun danced between their leaves as a balmy gust skittered by, carrying the scents of lilac and rosemary. Long, arched blades of grass tickled at her bare feet as she lay, basking in the day's glory. _

_"Hey, Brett," a distant voice called out, but it went unanswered as a shadow momentarily overcast, obscuring her view, a set of thin lips colliding with her own. The warm sensation of a frame caressing hers sent her clasping a hand within their hair, urging for more. As they nipped at the tender skin of her neck, she felt skilled fingers ascend up under her dress. _

_"Nicholas," she breathed, tilting her dome back in a fit of blind ecstasy. "Nicholas, I..." _

_"Hey, take a look at this, Brett!" The disruptive voice drew her away, gazing to her far right. _

_A gasp escaped her lips, peering upward, only to find no one near her. Quivering, she turned back to the voice, and let out a scream. _

* * *

"Wake up, Brett! Brett!" A frantic voice shook her from the nightmare, two hands grasping at her shoulders. She was shaking, terrified, and drenched to the bone with sweat. She lunged forward into Vash's arms, latching onto him, panicked that she may slip back into the horrifying vision. "It's all right," he assured, attempting to calm her. "It was only a dream."

Once, he made to move, but her grip on him tightened, and she cried, "Please don't go!" For half the night he sat, cradling her there like a helpless child.


	4. 4

**One More Suicide**

_Christopher O'Malley went out on a bridge, down in Chehalis.  
__Clutching his Bible, and a letter from her, fell into the river.  
__Pity no one was there, no angels in the air.  
__And the morning paper ran: One More Suicide. _

Daybreak, to Brett, seemed to arrive quickly in this town. Two, perhaps three, hours had passed since the horrific nightmare, but, hunched over the table, she sat, scribbling upon a piece of parchment. Bedewing the envelope with a heavy sigh, she looked at the four-letter name she'd meticulously inscribed. He'd never let her go. Not this way, at least.

"Tch," she scoffed, sliding her coat on and making for the door. "Try and stop me." Taking a final glance toward Vash, she shook her head, and smiled. He slumbered peacefully on the bed, mouth agape, a light, nasally snore emanating throughout the room. She could only imagine his reaction when he'd find the room vacant. The look that would stain his visage. The tears that would prick at his eyes when he read her note of absence. At least she wouldn't be there to witness. It was better this way, for both of them. "You thought you could save everyone."

* * *

_Vash, _

_You've been a wonderful friend, all that Nicholas talked you up to be. I am forever greatful, but, and I'm sure you'll agree, this has gone on far too long. I know it's been a burden, this past year, and I am sorry. Sorry for every day of it, with every ounce of myself. I'm a wreck, and tried to convince myself otherwise, but I knew it was only a matter of time that the past would catch up with me. Sometimes I think I was just kidding myself, with everything. To believe a paradise could be made by my hands? And I honestly thought being with you would help me to believe that again, when the truth is, I cannot stand you. You were my fantasy for everything I once had. But you can no longer suffice. You were not mine to cleave to, as much as you wanted to be. I used you in the most horrid ways; please forgive me. _

_Your solace, Brett _

* * *

Her palms had become slick, thinking for a moment that her grip would give. With a shaky breath, she felt the cool metal grazing her temple. A chill shot through her, the sweat rolling down her brow as she blinked. The hush was broken when she let out a sudden cry of frustration. It seemed impossible. What was holding her back?

_"To tell you the truth, I strongly disapprove of suicide..." _Vash's words rang clear as day, the image of him standing there, lips molded into a contrite smile, skittering through her mind. That was just it. Despite the ongoing façade, she had always been sure of one thing. That there was, in fact, some form of truth within his eyes. And whenever he'd spoken, she'd wholeheartedly been clinging to every word, hoping and waiting for something to relieve her from this precipice. But it'd never came.

"Idiot," she breathed, taking hold once again. Giving a sharp inhale, she clenched her teeth as to shatter them, and fired.


End file.
